


He Drives Me Crazy

by Living_On_My_Own



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_On_My_Own/pseuds/Living_On_My_Own
Summary: He had stared at him for so long, but he just wanted to make his dream come true. He wanted him to love him back.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	He Drives Me Crazy

3rd person's POV:

They all found it crazy, how quickly the singer had managed to write the song. They all could feel Crazy Little Thing Called Love would be a hit. It felt the right song for everyone. And gosh, Freddie could really make his voice work for every single song.

Before recording, they joked around about the song. About how it was made in the bath. About how the singer had written a song about love when he wasn't even in a relationship. Roger has once said in the middle of a studio session 'Crazy Little Thing Called Loneliness'. Everyone had laughed except the older, who only shot them a dark look. It was like the joke of the year apparently. The Persian found it simply annoying how much they joked of his misery. But he shut his mouth and rolled his eyes every time they did.

During the recording of the song, the black haired man closed his eyes as much as possible, knowing he'd start staring. There was only one reason why he found it so hurtful that it was the drummer who kept joking about the song. Because it was meant to be his song. And it would be way too obvious if he started looking at the blonde man while singing.

He didn't look at his band mate either when they left the studio. He knew there would be no way the other man would feel the same. He was always surrounded by women, sleeping with them night after night. There was no space for anyone else.

They had no idea why, but all the boys felt like it was a good night to party. Probably to get also utterly wasted. So they walked all together to the nearest club, all of them with a cigarette in their hand. They all smiled when the heavy music hit them. They couldn't help but wear silly grins on their faces looking at all the people gathered in this so little room.

Drinks were quickly bought and they wanted to drown themselves in the alcohol. They enjoyed each sip, laughing their heads off together. The singer ordered an army of shots, and they all thought they would have a taste of them too, but they were hoping too much. The Persian looked at them with the widest smile, showing off all his teeth, that he certainly would have never showed sober.

He downed the drinks so quickly that they barely had time to even see them. He shot them a look, and they all noticed the little spark in his eyes, the one he let barely anyone see. He couldn't sit on his seat anymore, he took Roger's forearms in his hands and brought him to the dance floor.

"Let's dance Roggie!" He yelled over the music.

The drummer let out a growl, but still let the smaller man bring him closer. And they forgot about everything, moving their bodies precisely, to the rhythm of the loud music. Then, a bit less disco went on. Both of the musicians didn't really react to it, only thinking about how familiar it sounded. Then, Roger's voice was heard, and they both looked at each with wide eyes. It was the song Fun It. Their own song.

"It's your song!!!" The singer shrieked before throwing himself in the arms of the younger man.

They stayed ecstatic the rest of the night, not stopping dancing one time. Maybe only a few times to continue to drink more and more. The alcohol made their bodies buzz. The two other men stayed sitting, talking to each other, and sometimes looking at their friends and laughing at their stupidity. It was such a good night, none of them worried about a thing in the world.

It was probably the alcohol acting, making the older so confident. He didn't notice it when he got even closer to his friend, their bodies now touching. He couldn't help the images in his head, it was Roger, he was insanely close to Roger. So he danced against the other man for a while, not giving a damn about what was going on with his body. Until he felt himself get incredibly hot, and getting embarrassingly hard.

But this time, the alcohol didn't help his heart feel better when the blonde pushed him away and quickly walked away. He just stared at where his best friend had escaped, feeling every bit of alcohol evaporating, leaving him with the biggest headache and pain in his chest.

Of course Roger wouldn't want to be this close to him. He wasn't gay.

Three months later

He stared at his blonde best friend. He ignored the fact that he couldn't breathe, that every time he tried to take any oxygen, he'd want to cry and explode every single thing that was around him. Maybe it was exaggerated, but it truly felt like that in his heart and head.

It was excruciating, to have to watch him and to think, no, he'd never be his. He wanted to think it was only because, he was him, and who would love him? But he tried making himself feel better by telling himself, he didn't even like men, it was just because he didn't like men.

The car stopped, the drummer put on his sunglasses on his eyes. He was the first one to get out, to shield himself away from the journalists. The singer watched him, wishing his friend could take his hand, get him out of the car, keep his hand in his to try and stop the anxiety that wanted to just jump out of his chest.

It was dark when he walked out of the car and quickly opened the giant door of the hotel. He joined his band mates quickly and stood beside them while they checked in. It had been so much time since they last toured. He looked as Roger widened his eyes, wearing a shocked face. The singer had no idea what was happening because of how distracted and in his own mind he was.

"Only three rooms."

That was it, that was the reason. And both John and Brian snores heavily, so he'd be in the same room as Roger. He didn't find it that bad, but he couldn't say the same about his friend. He looked as if he had heard the worst news ever. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't want Freddie near him, because he was different, because he wasn't normal like other men. It made a shiver travel in all his body, thinking that, maybe Roger found him disgusting for it.

But he ignored it and followed his friends through the gigantic hotel, going through all levels before arriving to theirs with the lift. He was tired, and he couldn't think about anything else at this moment.

He let Roger open the door of their room. They barely bothered to kick their bagages in the suit before noticing something. There was only one bed. Neither of them said anything about their new discovery. They didn't look at each other, out of embarrassment maybe.

The Persian went in the bathroom first to take a shower and wash his teeth. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes opened. He nearly fell over, closing his eyes with his toothbrush in his hands. He kept feeling his head going limp every second. The plane ride was so tiring. He put on his pajamas and walked out, letting the other man prepare himself to go to sleep.

The dark haired man went to look in the closet to take the extra blankets and pillows. He really didn't want to be uncomfortable during his sleep, but he didn't really have a choice. He looked at the so small couch that was facing the tv and his stomach twisted, he would never get any sleep on this. He sighed, he really had no other choice. He wasn't gonna sleep on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Asked the hoarse with fatigue voice.

The singer turned around to face the blonde man.

"I'm going to sleep?" He said, but it was more a question.

"Hum- the bed's here Freddie. There's a bed so you can sleep in it, that's the purpose of it. And if you only put your ass slightly on that couch, you'll break your back." The man said with a small ounce of playfulness in his voice.

"Oh." Freddie muttered with pink cheeks.

They were silent for a few seconds, not looking at each other, not moving.

"So, are you getting in?" The younger asked.

The other man nodded and quickly laid on the bed with the covers on himself. He watched as his friend got in bed with him. He noticed the incredibly large gap between them, even if it was the smallest bed that existed, and everything hurt again.

"Doesn't it bother you?" The older whispered.

"What?"

"That we're in the same bed, closer than we've ever been."

"Why would it bother me? I've always done it with Brian and I don't think I made it seem like it bothered me."

"Because it's me."

"And what's different with you?"

"I'm not like Brian. Brian is normal. I'm not normal."

"I'm a poof."

"You could be worried of what I'd try to do while you're asleep."

"Are you gonna do anything while I'm asleep?"

"No."

"Then I've got nothing to worry about."

"Don't you find it disgusting?"

"You're my best friend, Freddie. I don't care who you love as long as the other loves you properly."

They looked at each other for awhile, until the blonde wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend, soothing him as good as he could. He didn't want him to think like that. It often didn't bother any of them when Freddie was called names, the singer didn't care either. But it was sad when it was the singer who called himself those names. The man everyone thought as confident.

"Did I do anything for you to think that?" The drummer asked quietly.

"No. I'm just being stupid. Overthinking everything." The older answered sighing.

"It's okay."

And their exhaustion took over them, they didn't have time to pull away before they were both asleep, peaceful, in the arms of the man they wanted.

Three nights later

They didn't talk about when they woke up, tangled up in each other's arms and legs. And it happened every morning. They didn't look at each other much, way too embarrassed to say anything. They only talked to each other when they were forced to, when they didn't have any other choice.

They were now minutes away from their first concert of the tour. All of them were insanely nervous, the first night was always the hardest. But it made them feel immediately better when the crowd cheered for them when they got on stage. The smile on the singer's face could have killed, going from one ear to another. He was glad they could finally do this again.

Everything was going absolutely perfect, it was their best night of all nights they did gigs. The roars of the crowd were heart warming. They loved them. And it felt good to feel all their love thrown at them. And then the next song began to be played. The pianist had now a guitar in his hands, the one he barely knew how to play, or at least that's what he told everyone. He was beginning to feel more anxious, it was the only really important song of the night for him, and he planned on not ruining it.

He tried to keep his calm when he felt Roger come in a bear later. One beat that usually could ruin the whole song. But he didn't bother thinking about it too much and began singing, his voice reaching every person present in the stadium. He cursed himself when his throat closed up for a moment from stress, and it made his voice crack. He tried to ignore the bubbling anger inside him.

Then John missed a note and he wanted to die in place. This was so embarrassing. He continued singing. He was so distracted he almost stopped playing the chords, but while remembering it, he forgot to not get mixed up in the lyrics, to not sing what he truly wanted to write for the song when he wrote it.

"There goes my baby  
He knows how to rock 'n' roll  
He drives me crazy  
He gives me hot and cold fever  
Then she leaves me in a cool cool sweat"

And messed up the lyrics, changing the 'She' in 'He'. He wanted to yell at his band mates to stop, that it was enough, that anyway no matter what they did, some stupid article would come out and mock their performance. But they would mock him in particular, because it always seemed to be his mistake.

He knew the time was coming. He shot a look at the drummer. They both smiled slightly.

"And take a long ride on my motorbike  
Until I'm ready..."

"Ready Freddie!" The blonde man sang through his microphone.

It at least eased a bit the heart of the Persian making the whole thing more bearable. At least he didn't forget the thing that was the most important to him. So he smiled at Roger and just let the anger fade away a bit more for the rest of the show. He couldn't let all the anxiety affect what was left of the concert.

When the concert ended, everything came to hit him again. He was livid. It was his song, the song he had written with all the love he had for his friend, and no one cared about the importance the song could have to him.

And everyone thought he was being dramatic when his beer bottle smashed against the floor, when he yelled at them for messing up. When he shouted to them about how careless they were about the song, about him. They scoffed and rolled their eyes when he yelled at them for being so stupid and untalented.

"You messed up too! What's that? Changing the lyrics in the middle of a show? You don't have the fucking right to yell at us when you're not even better!" John yelled.

"What? You kept thinking of your new hook up while you sang? Another one that will last approximately one night and there'll be someone new the day?" Roger joked.

And it seriously hurt, coming from his own mouth.

"Fuck you all!" Freddie shouted before storming out.

_____

They both sat side by side. They had talked everything out, had apologised for what they said, and they were fine now. One was drawing, he didn't know what exactly, but the singer knew he'd find out what when he would be finished. The other man left his pencil in his mouth, not knowing what to write. He tried so hard to find words, but nothing was coming easily.

"I'm tired of sleeping around." He blurted out.

The black haired man quickly turned his head to look at his friend. It was so sudden, quite out of nowhere.

"I want to be in a relationship, you know? It just seems like I can't find the right girl, and I keep searching!" He said exasperatedly.

"It'll come to you, darling. Searching for love will only get it further away from you." The smaller man said, sounding so sure of himself that it was sad.

"Maybe I should try with guys."

The air stopped getting easily in the Persian's lungs. He stopped moving, he stared at his friend. He wished he was in a dream. It would make everything harder, having to watch the one he loved now be with men too.

"What?" He managed to get out with difficulty.

"I'm serious, maybe I should try it out."

He definitely knew now that it was pain he was feeling. His legs were too heavy for him to move. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't, not in front of his best friend. He wanted to stop the pain he felt when his stomach churned.

He remembered their night out, when Roger had rejected him, when he had pushed him away. And when Roger had made an horrified face to the idea of being in the same room as Freddie. So it wasn't because he was a man. He was right since the beginning, it was because he was himself. Because he was Freddie and no one wanted Freddie.

The man got up from the bed, panic filling his entire body. He quickly walked to the door. He needed to get out of there, he couldn't breathe. His eyes got wet and he let out a quiet growl.

"S-Sorry. I forgot something. I- Hum, John has it and I- I really need it." He quickly talked.

He unlocked the door, leaving his friend to walk after him, calling his name. Someone took his wrist, forbidding him to walk any further. They were in the middle of the hallway, but they didn't care about that at this exact moment.

"Freddie, what's going on?" The blonde asked worriedly.

"N-Nothing. I just really need what John has taken from me."

He tried getting away before he would start to really cry. But the other didn't let him.

"You never forget your things, Freddie. What did I say? Did I hurt you?"

It had always been a dream for Freddie. Roger coming, saying that he wants to be with men instead of women. That he was gay. But now that it was happening, it felt more of a nightmare. Because, why would the drummer even like him? He was only Freddie, and yet it was already too much. He was too flamboyant, too annoying, too everything. So there was no dream to have, no hope to keep. Roger would never want him.

"It may not be the moment, Freddie. But that's not all I wanted to tell you." Roger said quietly.

The singer lifted his head to look at his friend.

"I don't want to date any guy. I've been thinking about it for a while, you know. And I wasn't ready to say anything, but I think now I'm ready."

"I want to be with you, Freddie." The drummer admitted.

They stared at each other for a while. The dark haired man stayed completely frozen, not believing anything he was hearing. It could only be a dream. There was no way it was actually happening.

"M-me?" He whispered pointing at himself.

The blonde man nodded and smiled slightly. They didn't know who leaned in first, who put their lips on the lips of the other man. But it didn't really matter, because they were kissing. And the singer let himself be pushed against the door of a hotel room, the drummer intensifying their kiss. Both of them making the others hair messy.

They almost fell when the door opened and an old woman yelled at them for being disrespectful and stupid. They both giggled, running back to their room. Their door was quickly closed after themselves.

"I want to be with you too." Freddie said.

They both smiled at each other. They were now glad there was only one bed in their room.


End file.
